I Would Do Anything
by VannHazel
Summary: She knocked again and again, as he watched her through the hole. He wanted to feel nothing toward her, to be cold and hateful, to leave her in the storm, to trudge up to his bedroom and sleep away the memories of her at the door. But, the second he realized that it wasn't just rain smearing her make-up, but also tears, he knew that his negligence wasn't an option. RATED M FOR SMUT!


_**This is my first attempt at real, legit smut.**_

_**I have never written smut before.**_

_**This may be the most atrocious thing that you've ever read.**_

_**That's why it's called FAN-fiction.**_

_**So, uh, hang in there with me? Thanks. *smiles***_

_**Vann**_

Rough winds thwacked his windowpane incessantly, a resounding thud breaking his peaceful silence every few moments. Eli burrowed his face in his black cotton sheets, hoping to fall into a restful sleep before another _torturous_ school day. Blinking back tears of frustration, he swung his legs off of the bed and sauntered over to the door. He crept silently down the stairs, careful not to stir his parents from their rest. Having a psychotic son can really take a toll on someone, he thought. His condition was taking a toll on everyone around him. The guilt from that alone was enough to keep him awake at night.

School was just… Hell… Just a glorified prison in which he felt continuously victimized, traumatized and heart-heavy. The fact that he had to see Clare Edwards, the clichéd "love-of-his-life", canoodling with her lanky beanpole boyfriend was enough to send him spiraling into a dizzying panic attack on an almost daily basis.

He poured himself a large glass of milk and set it in the microwave. He watched the cup spin slowly as it heated, a small bit of steam rising from the liquid and entrancing him. Licking his lips, as he brought the warmth up and let it flow happily down his throat. The little things, his therapist said, like a glass of warm milk or the pattering of a slow rain, would help him calm his mind.

He found himself indulging in his midnight glasses of milk more often than he'd care to admit.

Carefully, he plopped down onto his couch and grabbed the television remote, still cradling the glass of milk in his hand. The light glowing from the T.V illuminated a grandfather clock on the other side of the room, and Eli caught a brief glimpse of the time.

_2:21am_

He was destined for another exhausting day at Degrassi in the morning. It wasn't surprising. Every day was exhausting. The past month had been hellish for him; he couldn't expect tomorrow to be different.

It had been exactly a month since he crashed Morty. One month since he'd lost Clare. A year and a month since he'd lost Julia. He seemed to lose everything.

His thoughts attacked him out of nowhere and he felt his heart rate picking up, threatening him with one of the terrible panic-attacks that he so desperately tried to avoid. In a futile attempt to halt the anxiety, he chugged the rest of his milk down and closed his eyes.

_One… Two… Three… Four…_

A rough knocking on the door interrupted his meditation and he glared at it, before realizing the time and weather conditions outside. He attributed the sound to a tree branch and once again closed his eyes to feign off his own demons.

_Five… Six…_

More knocking sounds swam through his ears, more rapid in succession than before. He grabbed the metal coatrack from the corner of the room and crept over to the door, ready to attack anyone who crossed him the wrong way. Cautiously, he peered through the peephole and tried to distinguish a figure in the darkness of the stormy night.

Very, very faintly, he could see matted down curls and chubby, rain-soaked cheeks.

_No._

He was dreaming, he knew he had to be dreaming because there was _no_ way that Clare would show up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. That didn't make any sense. She had her new life, and her beanpole, and she was ashamed to ever know the name Eli Goldsworthy… right?

He shook his head briskly and waited for her image to just disappear, like he was _sure_ that it would.

Because she _wasn't_ there.

_She couldn't be there._

_But she was_.

She knocked again and again, as he watched her through the hole. He _wanted_ to feel nothing toward her, to be cold and hateful, to leave her in the storm, to trudge up to his bedroom and sleep away the memories of her at the door. But the second he realized that it wasn't just rain smearing her make-up, but also tears, he knew that his negligence wasn't an option.

"Clare." He greeted authoritatively as he opened the door. "Let's get you out of the rain." No more words, no less, just a unemotional greeting and instruction. He mentally patted himself on the back for not pulling her into a needy hug the second her saw her face.

She nodded at him, blubbering incoherently under her breath.

He led her up to his room, nerves getting the best of him as he tried to remain calm and collected. All he wanted to do was _hold her_. He wanted to erase the past month, and start anew.

But that was impossible. Nothing is ever that simple, especially when it comes to Eli.

They acted like complete strangers, going through the motions of a simple task. Eli was the Good Samaritan and Clare was the down-trodden girl who just needed a hand, perhaps… a friend?

He wordlessly handed her a pair of dry clothes and motioned toward the bathroom. She nodded at him shyly and excused herself. When she reemerged, she plopped down next to him on the bed and sighed.

"I made a huge mistake." Clare whispered, not tearing her gaze away from Eli's plush carpeting.

"And what was that?" Eli asked calmly, though his mind was running at a hundred miles a minute. Why was she at his house in the middle of the night? Why was she crying? What was her mistake?

"Leaving you when you needed me the most." Clare looked up from the carpet and met with Eli's surprised green-eyes. "Ending our relationship before I ever told you that I love you… Using Jake as a rebound… I've made so many mistakes." She wiped her face with the back of her hand and sniffled. "I know that you probably want _nothing_ to do with me. But if it makes you feel better, I broke up with Jake."

"Why?" Eli asked dryly, afraid for portray his complex emotions in his words, afraid to scare her off yet again. She admitted to _loving_ him, but he couldn't deal with that… _yet._

"He spent all of his free-time at parties, drinking and smoking marijuana… I wanted to fit in with his friends, so I went to one last weekend… I woke up the naked the next morning, with a terrible hangover and no recollection of what happened. Apparently, I threw myself at Jake after drinking too much... And he didn't turn me down." She buried her face in her hands and chuckled dryly. "Do you want to hear the best part?" She asked sarcastically, meeting once again with Eli's shocked gaze. "He told me that I said _your_ name during… In fact, he suggested that I work things out with you. Isn't that something? My boyfriend has sex with me and suggests I go back to my ex. My life is like some kind of pathetic soap-opera... The worst part is, I don't deserve either of you. Especially not you."

Eli blinked slowly and shook his head, "No, Clare… You deserve better than me. You deserve-"

"I deserve nothing!" She cried angrily. "I abandoned you, and moved on to the next guy that would have me, Eli! I'm nothing but a selfish bitch!"

He was taken aback by her language and moved closer to her, resting a hand gently on her middle back. "You aren't a selfish bitch, Clare. I would have left me, too."

"That's a lie, Eli. You are too sweet to do that. You're perfect." She clutched his hand roughly and brought it up to her mouth, kissing it lovingly. His skin tingled at the contact.

"I'm _bi-polar,_ Clare. I have post-traumatic stress. I have an anxiety disorder, hoarding problems. I'm clingy. Manipulative. Suffocating." He yelled, throwing all of his baggage and anger at her, praying that it would drive her away. He couldn't lose her again. He would die if her had her, and lost her. It was easier to go without. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, he thought.

He expected fear from her, or some justification of his issues. He expected her to deny his faults and live in her tortured fantasy that he was perfect and his character flaws were okay. Instead, she gripped his face between her hands and whispered, "No… You are _Eli._ And I. Love. You."

She smashed her face into his and their lips met explosively. He kissed her back with fury, wanting as much of her as he could get, needing the contact like oxygen.

"Don't leave me again." He begged. She nodded furiously and he gripped onto her hips, yanking her closer to him and capturing her plump lips in a desperate kiss. He ran his rough palms against her back and pulled her in to him as tight as he could. In one swift motion, he bent over and picked her up, bridal style, and set her down on his bed.

"Eli, I want you." She said shakily. She ripped her purity ring off of her finger and leaned up, setting it in the palm of his hand. "I don't remember losing it. I want to remember giving it… to you."

Part of Eli was telling him that this was wrong, that Clare was using him to get over the fact that she got drunk and made a mistake. That part was telling him to send her home, to let her move on with his life, and let him do the same.

But the other part of him, the big part, told him that he _deserved _this. He had been suffering without her, and he'd be an absolutely idiot to turn her away now. In that moment, Eli didn't care about the long-term effects of this action; he was too clouded with lust and need to think about the consequences.

That's the part that urged him to unbutton her jeans and slide them off of her silky thighs, throw them to the floor and kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

He ran his hands up and down her inner thigh, invoking a strangled moan from her throat. He leaned over and sucked on the tender skin of her leg, leaving a trail of wet kisses and subtle bite marks all over her lower half.

Hesitantly, he hovered over her center and looked up at her face, hoping to see it void of reluctance. Her eyes were closed peacefully and her face was contorted in a look of pleasure.

"If you want me to stop-"

"Don't stop." She begged him, bucking her hips closer to him, urging him to make another move.

This isn't my Clare, he thought. This isn't the same girl who I knew.

He glared down at her bare skin, the gentle smoothness of her untouched thighs, and the thoughts fled with his inhibitions. In one swift motion, he pulled her panties down to her ankles and attacked her center with his thick tongue. A gasp of ecstasy swam from her mouth to his ears and he smirked as he drew orgasmic, frantic moans from her. One of her hands gripped onto his hair and the other one was grasped onto her breast. His name fell from her lips like music and he reached up, cupping her neglected breast in his palm as her hips jerked up and her back arched off of the bed. He tasted her essences and prayed that it wasn't all some beautiful dream.

"Eli, E-" She came hard as he drove her over the edge, her fluids drenching his chin as he licked up the remains and kissed up her body, not missing a beat. With every inch he crawled up her body, he lifted her shirt until it was gather around her neck, her breasts and stomach exposed. Her breasts jiggled in his face and he raised his eyebrows at her seductively.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to see these?" He moaned in her ears, cupping her through her bra and bucking his growth into her center.

Clare responded with a breathy gasp and gripped onto the waist of his pants. She wrenched them off of his hips and stared down at his rock-hard member, fear and excitement shining in her eyes. Eli reached behind her and unclasped her bra, throwing it to the other side of his room before attacking her breasts with his hands and mouth.

Small whimpers of pleasure escaped her clamped lips and she tugged readily at his black locks. She brought his face up to hers and smashed their lips together before stating, "I'm ready, Eli."

Her words caught him off-guard. He was still trying to distinguish if he was in a crazy dream, or it Saint Clare Edwards was honest-to-God lying on his bed, begging him to sleep with her. His mind was so fogged up with lust and animalistic desire; he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

He inserted two fingers into her and felt her fluids drenching his fingers. "You're so tight, Clare."

She hummed in reply and bucked into his hand. He scissored his fingers inside of her tight, wet hole and tried to prepare her the best he could. Though she wasn't a virgin, he knew it may still hurt, and he didn't want the experience to be unpleasant for her, what-so-ever.

The sight of her squirming beneath him was too much. He removed his fingers and crawled up, aligning their most intimate parts.

"I love you." He whispered before thrusting into her with no barriers. A savage moan ripped through his throat as pleasure coursed through him swiftly. He'd never had unprotected sex before, and though he knew it was a terrible idea, he couldn't stop. He just _couldn't _stop. Clare was his now, finally his again, and he couldn't turn her down. He wouldn't. He hadn't. He never would.

Clare clenched her eyes shut and shifted, trying to minimize the discomfort. The feeling was completely foreign to her, but it didn't hurt as badly as it would have if she was inexperienced.

He dipped in and out of her roughly, stabbing her most sensitive spot and raising a scream from her after the initial intrusive feelings. He kept his position and repeatedly hit her pleasure point, watching her squirm and twitch through half-lidded eyes. The amount of pleasure she was feeling caused her hot skin to coat with a subtle sheen. She felt like she was on fire, and when he lowered his hand and massaged her bundle of nerves, she felt her insides explode and a wave of pleasure pass over every inch of her body.

Her walls contracted over him and he sped up, pushing himself quickly to his finish. As he felt himself about to release, his hips took over and he slammed into her with frantic pace. He grasped her hips and, with one final motion, spilled himself into her. He collapsed onto her torso and, barely holding himself up, he planted a delicate kiss on her lips and fell onto the bed next to her.

"Cl-are…" He breathed out, eyes closed and heart pounding in his chest. He looked over at her and noticed tears pouring out of her eyes. He backed away from her in fear and whispered, "Are you okay?"

He was terrified of her tears. The realization of what they'd done struck him at the sight of her crying, and he felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Wear my ring." She said with a half-smile, tears still flowing down. He grabbed it off of the end-table and shoved it onto his ring finger, not breaking eye contact with her once.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, running his fingers through her sweat-coated hair.

"I'm overwhelmed. I just made love to the man that I thought I'd lost forever… It's a lot to take in." Clare snuggled into his chest and wept, relishing in the feeling of his warm skin against hers. "Promise me that you'll keep getting help? Please? Eli, I can't go through that again."

He pulled her closer and closed his eyes, rubbing the skin of her back lovingly. He looked down at the gorgeous woman in his arms and kissed her chastely. "To keep you, I would do anything."

_**So, I hope that wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Lol **_

_**Um, so… yeah. That was my first attempt at smut (and probably the last.)**_

_**Seriously though, please "comment" and tell me what you thought about this? I'm dying for some critique and feedback on my pitiful attempt at sexy writing. Haha**_

_**Thanks!**_

_**Vann**_


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